“Wait here for a moment. I’ll send someone.”
Just because he had permission didn't mean they could leave right away. Returning to their quarters, he found his squad members looking like baby birds waiting for their mother bird.
“Get ready.”
He conveyed the situation in a single phrase.
“Ah, I believed in you. I knew the Squad Leader would pull it through!”
“Good.”
Rem and Jacksen each added a word, and the rest also began to move. They had to at least pack some gear, didn't they?
“Wait for now. Orders will come down soon.”
“Let's do that.”
No matter what was said now, the mood would be warm. It was a rare sight to see the entire squad united.
Bump.
Even when Ragna and Rem bumped into each other while moving, they both passed by without a care. Not a single complaint was exchanged.
“Hey, you sly wildcat, you got a spare cloak? It's damn cold.”
Rem especially hated the cold. At his words, Jacksen shook his head. Normally, it was a situation where a fight could have broken out immediately, but it passed smoothly.
‘They’re getting along so well.’
How nice would it be if they could always live like this, giving way to each other appropriately. Of course, that was just wishful thinking. Watching his squad members move busily, Enkrid sat on the edge of a cot.
Soon, the person sent by the company commander arrived.
“What did you do to get the entire squad requisitioned for a mission?”
It was the Fourth Platoon Leader. He was the messenger sent by the company commander.
“We're going to follow the assassin's trail. The Thieves' Guild.”
“... Be careful. Even a knight's grandfather can't dodge a dagger from behind. Thieves are dangerous folk.”
The Platoon Leader spoke with concern, adding an old saying. A dagger in the back. Once, a general who commanded the continent died by the dagger of a subordinate he firmly trusted.
It was a tale from a long, long time ago, not quite a legend, but not something you could call history either. An event that may or may not have actually happened. Just as Enkrid was about to nod his head in understanding.
“No, a knight can dodge it,” Ragna said.
“You don't have to be a knight to dodge it,” Jacksen agreed.
“You'd have to be an idiot to get stabbed helplessly from behind,” Rem finished.
The three of them chimed in as soon as the Platoon Leader finished speaking.
“Never mind.”
The Platoon Leader shook his head and left. In any case, permission had been granted.
“Let's go.”
Enkrid said as he stood up. The weather was even colder than yesterday, making the inside of their quarters feel like an icebox. As for equipment, Rem only had a single handaxe.
Ragna had the one arming sword he'd traded with Enkrid before. Jacksen also had just one sword that looked like a shortsword. Audin took two short clubs that had been thoroughly oiled and dried, stuck them in his belt, and stepped forward.
“Thievery is a bad deed. Let's go teach them a lesson.”
Audin said, stepping forward. Hearing that, Rem chuckled.
“That's right. It's a bad deed.”
Everyone's equipment was simple, but Jacksen wore thick fur clothes, making him look sluggish. Ragna was wrapped in a hole-ridden cloak made of layered, patched-up cloth that even a passing beggar wouldn't covet. But the most ridiculous of them all was Rem.
“You're going like that?”
Jacksen was, of course, within an acceptable range, and if one was generous, Ragna's attire was also passable. But what was this? He had completely wrapped a blanket around his body.
Should one call him a walking bed? He didn't seem to have any intention of extending his arms. Only the tips of his feet peeked out.
“I hate the cold.”
Would he listen if told not to? Enkrid chose the efficient method. He ignored Rem.
“Let's go.”
The troublemaker squad set off toward the marketplace just like that.
“This seems dangerous.”
Krais muttered to himself before following them. Faced with the choice of shoveling snow until his forearms swelled up or taking a risk, he chose the risk. That's how much he hated shoveling snow.
No matter the fight, endlessly replaying and reviewing it afterward was an old habit of Enkrid's, and a means for survival. This time was no different. The half-elf had drawn his attention with the whistling throwing knife and Rotten.
‘A trick.’
A simple but powerful smokescreen. After that, he aimed for close-quarters combat. He tried to end the fight with a single move, a strike that could be called a killing blow.
For some reason, the half-elf had a penchant for hearts. Because of that, it was possible to predict the target area, and through the repeating day, he had already experienced the shape of the man's weapon. It meant he could fight with everything calculated.
‘What if I had failed?’
Enkrid thought.
‘Did I rely on luck?’
The half-elf might not have moved as he intended. For him to move according to his calculations, a certain amount of luck had to be involved. Enkrid asked himself.
The first 'today', when he killed that perverted enemy lancer bastard. Enkrid had used an all-out thrust as his weapon. It was an act that didn't consider the aftermath, truly a deed of placing his life on the gambling table.
He reviewed that time and reflected on his mistake. Did he make the same mistake as back then? Not this time.
‘Even if he had used a different move.’
In the end, he would have been the one to win. He had overwhelmed him in terms of personal tactics, but he was confident he could overwhelm him in skill even before that. Even if the half-elf had decided to fight him head-on with Rotten remaining behind.
‘My chances of winning are higher.’
Of course, it would have been difficult to win as cleanly as he did just now, without any significant injuries.
Review, reflect.
He repeated it countless times. As he walked, he visualized images and applied them to different situations. The patrolman who found Enkrid was surprised twice.
First, he was surprised to see the corpse, and then he was surprised again to see the troublemaker squad leader who had reached the level of a high-rank soldier. They say high-rank soldier, but… How many ordinary soldiers could actually show this level of skill?
Especially since this was a person whose skills were terrible until this battle. To put it simply, it was universally acknowledged that his swordsmanship was no longer at a level where he was scraping the bottom of the barrel. And yet, Enkrid contemplated.
‘There might have been an easier way.’
It was an attitude that made it hard to believe he had a repeating day. But perhaps it was because he adhered to this attitude that he was always able to greet tomorrow. His thoughts continued one after another, until Enkrid recalled even last night's dream.
‘Does he have nothing better to do?’
No matter how he looked at it, it was an incomprehensible being. He was talking about the Ferryman of the Black River. The ferryman who appeared in his dream did not sneer like before.
He just stared blankly before spitting out a single phrase.
“What are you?”
It was the voice of one without a mouth. For that reason, the emotion embedded in the voice was transmitted clearly. No, it was transmitted because the ferryman willed it.
Enkrid felt it instinctively. The emotion contained in that one phrase was puzzlement. Pure curiosity, unmixed with any fragment of emotions like disappointment or anger.
He couldn't give an answer. Because it was a dream. Of course, it probably wasn't an ordinary dream.
“Squad Leader.”
He must have been too lost in thought; Enkrid only stopped walking after someone grabbed his arm from behind and called his name.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
He had let what was said to him a moment ago pass by unheard.
“I said it's a good way to get stabbed by a thief if you go in with that kind of mindset.”
Rem said.
It didn't seem like it was that long of a sentence. More importantly, the bastard Rem who said it was dressed in a way that if he charged in now, he'd get stabbed and die wrapped up in his blanket. Jacksen ignored Rem and spoke.
“I asked if you have a plan.”
A plan? What plan?
An emotion similar to the one he saw in the ferryman from his dream appeared in Enkrid's eyes.
Puzzlement.
“Are you planning to just ask around for the Thieves' Guild and charge in? Do you know the location of the guild headquarters?”
Jacksen asked, crossing his arms. Thanks to his thick clothes, his elbows were raised, creating a comical shape, but Jacksen himself was unconcerned. Their opponents were bastards who did everything from pickpocketing to human trafficking.
The name of the guild was Gilfin. It literally meant it was an organization led by Gilfin. It was commonly called the Thieves' Guild, but in reality, it was just a criminal organization.
Would people like that reveal their base and operate openly? No. Like insects parasitizing the darkness and back alleys of the city, they hid themselves.
“I don't know.”
“I think we should start by establishing a plan.”
“Did you really not have any thoughts at all?”
Rem also chimed in and asked. Ragna didn't join in, just stared at the sky, continuously puffing out his breath. Audin just wore a gentle smile.
“You really had no plan?”
Krais looked at Enkrid with his big eyes and asked.
“I thought you'd at least know where their headquarters is.”
“Even for me, how would I know the location of this guild? If I tried to approach them to find out, I'd get my throat slit.”
As he spoke, Krais made a throat-slitting gesture with the side of his hand. A criminal guild killing a member of the standing army? Were they in that kind of position?
They shouldn't be at a level to do something like that. Actually, he wasn't interested. He had neither the time nor the energy to pay attention to such things.
“Have you never conducted a small-unit operation before?”
Jacksen asked again. It seemed like he was scolding him for moving by rule of thumb when the entire squad was involved. Enkrid was increasingly at a loss for words.
What had his life been like until now? He was busy struggling to survive. They were days when he cut into his sleeping time just to swing his sword one more time.
In between all that, there was no time to learn about strategy. Of course, he had experience as a mercenary. And experience serving as a Squad Leader.
He had participated in small-scale operations several times as well. However, the flow of the battlefield and conducting a small-scale operation outside of it were completely different stories. On the battlefield, a small-scale operation like leading the previous reconnaissance squad was a familiar field, but the situation was different now.
Moreover.
‘That was...’
The result of contemplating how to survive, not moving based on a detailed plan. They were all things he learned by throwing his life on the line. So, does he have to do that again this time?
Does he have to throw his life away again and repeat the day? Enkrid stopped walking. A damn cold wind passed through the cloak he wore and brushed against his side.
It was a biting, cold wind.
‘I don't want to do that.’
He didn't want to use repeating the day as one of his methods. The pain of death was not that pleasant. Above all, his instincts told him.
That there was no need for it. Then what should he do? It wasn't that he came with absolutely no plan.
He had thought of the usual methods.
“Can't we find out everything by asking around? No matter how well they hide, the city natives will know everything.”
There are no secrets in the world. Because secrets are perfected by death. If the only one who knows the secret dies, then no one will ever be able to find it out.
A criminal organization wouldn't be able to hide itself like that. Therefore, the conclusion is that someone knows.
“That method will be difficult. The Gilfin folks are good at cutting their tails, and they're famous for being frightening. Even if you catch their grunts and grill them, they won't know anything, and even if they do know something and accidentally spill it, I heard Gilfin will break all their limbs and cut out their tongues.”
It means they rule the organization through fear of retaliation.
Then how?
No method immediately came to mind. He could struggle to survive and contemplate on it all he wanted. If this were a battlefield, he knew to some extent how to hold a position according to strategy.
But this was not that kind of situation.
“Squad Leader, give the order.”
While he was lost in thought, Ragna, who had been just staring at the sky, spoke. Enkrid's eyes turned to Ragna. A genius of swordsmanship who had few rivals if he just held a sword.
That was the Ragna that Enkrid saw. Normally, Ragna was a lazy and sloppy person. The kind of person who would get lost at the drop of a hat and spill things from his pockets.
But sometimes, very rarely, Ragna knew how to grasp the core of an issue and dig into it. Just as if he were holding a sword.
“The leader just needs to give the order. Let the one who knows how to do it handle the method of carrying it out.”
That one sentence. Ragna's softly muttered words were incredibly large and heavy to Enkrid. He had called him the leader.
That was his original position. Squad Leader, the head who leads the squad. Then, until now, had Enkrid truly been the head leading the squad?
‘Was I the Squad Leader?’
No. A person with terrible skills who was desperate just to survive could hardly become the head of a group. Especially when every single squad member was exceptionally talented. But now, Ragna's one sentence had changed the situation.
“That's right.”
Rem acknowledged it. Jacksen gave a slight nod.
“That's how it's done. That's right. Brother, that's what a leader does.”
Audin agreed.
“He said the right thing, what's wrong?”
Only Krais was out of sync with the mood. That was because he had already considered Enkrid his Squad Leader in his heart.
“Right. He's right. Jacksen, you have a way, don't you?”
Equivalent Exchange Jacksen was also an information broker who exchanged information. If Krais's information was shallow and wide, Jacksen's was narrow and deep.
“I do.”
“Tell me.”
“If you get an inn in the market and wait, I will return before the sun sets.”
He asked for a method, but instead he says he will leave.
“If you leave it to me, I will find out.”
“Alright. Let's go get an inn.”
Once he decided, he didn't look back. That's what Enkrid did. On the way to the inn, they hadn't yet reached the middle of the market, so there weren't many people around, but on the well-trodden dirt path, Enkrid finished voicing his thoughts.
“We'll find the guild's headquarters and wipe them out in one go.”
The opponent was a criminal organization. Even if there were no charges, there would be no complaints about crushing them with force. Of course, it would mean putting a hole in and tearing up the back pockets of the nobles or the battalion commander who were their higher-ups.
‘What does that matter?’
A knight is one who holds not a single point of shame in his heart. Just as he had seen, heard, learned, and dreamed as a child. Because Enkrid had lived that way.
He intended to do so now as well.